


These Gifts

by lanri



Series: Unseen [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Blindness, Gen, Season 2, Unseen 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 06:37:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1541267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanri/pseuds/lanri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-Simon Says. An accidental spell allows Sam to see. Just not for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Gifts

They had left Andy and the whole psychic crazy business far behind them. Mile-wise. Sam pressed his face against the vibrating glass of the car window in an attempt to quell the headache brewing, but it only made it worse.

“You need some more aspirin?” Dean asked neutrally.

“Had too many already,” Sam grunted.

“We could pull over, let you get some rest,” Dean suggested, and Sam really wished he could see his face to know whether Dean was being serious or not, because his voice wasn’t telling him anything.

“No. Can’t leave a case of witches laying around, right?” He tried to make his voice light and had dubious success.

“I hate witches,” Dean muttered, and Sam relaxed as Dean accepted the change in conversation topic.

“At least they haven’t killed anybody,” he comforted.

“Just a matter of time,” his brother replied darkly.

Dean had always hated witches, ever since Sam had been blinded. Which Sam found interesting, because they had gone into the hunt thinking it was a witch, when instead it was an ancient nameless creature. In some ways, it was like Dean blamed the witches for not being there, which Sam sometimes found amusing, sometimes upsetting.

Turned out, this time the witches were easy to find, and their altar was simple to destroy. But then Sam accidentally brushed something and a shock jolted his whole body and he collapsed.

“Sam!”

Dean was right there, and Sam tried to get his mouth to work, but could only writhe helplessly until the pain suddenly disappeared.

“What did you do to him?” Dean roared.

“That was just a charm. It was supposed to restore something lost,” one of the witches quavered.

“Dean,” Sam grunted, and looked up at Dean, taking in the pinched lines of worry . “I—” he suddenly swallowed, and Dean stared at him.

“Sam?”

“I can . . . I can see,” he whispered, like talking loud would take away his vision again. He blinked, once, before looking at his brother more fully, re-learning that Dean had freckles and that he widened his eyes when he was worried.

Dean cocked his gun and pointed it at one of the witches. Sam opened his eyes wider and took them all in. Funny, he had forgotten what younger females looked like—they were kind of attractive.

“Alright, what’s the catch. Is he going to die?”

The witch frantically shook her blonde curly head. Sam realized in shock that it reminded of him of Jess, when he had seen her in the vision of her death. “No. It’s harmless, we promise.”

“But it won’t last long,” one of the witches spoke up, and Sam froze.

“How long?” he croaked.

“Three days, tops.”

Sam bit his lip. “Right.” He glanced up to see Dean looking at him nervously.

“Are you alright?”

Sam blew out his breath. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

“Sure.” Dean glared at the witches. “You’re on the blacklist for hunters now, you hear me? Ever mess with magic again, and you’re all dead.”

Sam noticed Dean grabbing his cane, but didn’t care himself. He made his way through the house, looking in wonder at the garish pink walls and sparkling baubles.

“Dude, wait up.” Dean got up into his space and pulled him around, looking him over. “You’re sure there aren’t any side effects.”

Sam allowed himself to examine Dean close enough to have his brother blushing. “This is one gift horse I’m not gonna look in the face,” he said happily. “Three days of seeing. Man, this is . . . I’d practically pay them for this.”

Dean bit his lip. “I dunno. It feels wrong.”

Sam rolled his eyes in an old gesture he hadn’t used since he was thirteen, getting a startled look from Dean. He frowned at that. “What?”

“Just, it’s weird. Seeing you with, uh, well eyes. Y’know, not just white.”

Sam was a little miffed at that. “What, do I have ugly eyes?”

Dean rolled his own. “Dude. They look fine, relax.”

“What color are they?” he asked curiously.

Dean sighed, loud and put-upon. “There’s a mirror at the motel. Then you can stare at yourself all day long, princess.”

Sam shook himself and stepped outside the door. And froze in shock.

“Sam?”

“The sky, Dean. It’s so blue.”

“Uh huh,” Dean had the ‘you’re crazy,’ tone going on, and Sam turned to him, about to punch him in annoyance until he saw the grin on his brother’s face. It made Sam smile in turn, just seeing it.

“I’ve never gotten to see you happy for so long,” he said joyfully.

Dean just groaned, but Sam could tell how fake it was.

* * *

“I thought you got to see in your visions,” Dean commented, eyeing his menu. Sam was gazing around the diner in rapture, like he had—well, like he had never seen it before.

“S’not the same. I mean, those are kind of flashing images and pieces. And normally violent.”

Dean glanced up in time to see Sam give the semi-attractive waitress a beatific smile, to which she blushed.

“Sammy, I swear, you’re like a little beam of sunshine,” Dean muttered, hiding his own smile behind his menu.

“Shut up. I get to see for three days, don’t ruin this for me.”

“You would think they could figure out how to make it permanent,” Dean thought aloud, regretting it the instant he said it. He winced, expecting Sam to immediately want to go back.

“No. Spell work is notoriously tricky. I mean, if I had ever had cancer and had gotten this mojo worked on me, I’d be dead in three days. Only reason that creature’s spell was permanent was that he literally took the ability from my brain.”

Dean grumbled an appropriate epithet for said creature as he always did, and Sam smiled at him, eyes lit up with happiness so that it was impossible not to get swept along.

At one point, Sam got up to go to the bathroom, only to stay in there for a bit too long; Dean followed, to find Sam staring at himself in the mirror.

“Easy there, Narcissus,” he grumbled, and Sam smirked at him.

“Ooh, classical literature reference. I think I might swoon.”

To keep up appearances, Dean hit him, and Sam turned impossibly big eyes on him in a pathetic look that Dean instantly dubbed puppy-dog eyes that he vaguely remembered from their childhood. They kind of made him melt inside, so maybe it was a good thing the spell wasn’t for keeps, because Dean would roll over and play dead if Sam used that expression on him again.

They spent one whole day just driving around the stupid small town they were in, Sam practically hanging out the window, looking impossibly young with the way his eyes were so wide.

“C’mon, Sam, no motel tonight.” Dean ushered him into the car, meeting his suspicious glance with a deliberately innocent look.

“Dude, that expression may work, but I can read your voice. You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“Who, me?” Dean shoved his little brother into the car, nearly bashing his head on the frame. “Man, too bad the spell didn’t make you shorter.”

Sam gave an appropriate derogatory response regarding Dean’s height, and Dean pulled the Impala out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires.

* * *

“Um, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. In a desert.”

Dean deliberately slowed his movements as he pulled the keys out of the ignition and got to see Sam’s eyes widen.

“Really?”

“You crash her, I will kill you.”

Sam swallowed as he handled the keys reverently. “Um, you’ll teach me, right?”

Dean snorted. “To think, I’ll be teaching my little brother, who’s in his twenties, how to drive.”

Sam didn’t even respond to the taunt, turning the puppy-dog eyes on him again.

Dean pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Alright, man. So, let’s do this.”

* * *

They finished out the night by staring at the stars, Dean naming and pointing out the different ones he knew. Sam got to watch the sunrise for the first time in ten years, and nearly started crying, which was sort of embarrassing. Still, he was entitled.

“Alright, what do you want to do today?” Dean sounded like he was both tiredly patient yet kind of happy. Sam turned to face him and couldn’t help but grin at the sight of his face.

“We have that hunt,” he reminded.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Uh, what?”

“The hunt you mentioned. One state over.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You want to do a hunt?”

Sam spread his arms wide. “Dude, I’d be happy doing anything, except for getting stuck in a cave. Wait, it’s not a wendigo, is it?”

Dean laughed, “no, it’s not.”

“Well, then?” Sam grinned at his brother. “For once, I can really do a hunt with you.”

Dean looked slightly disconcerted. “You’re always on the hunts with me.”

“Yeah, on the sidelines, trying to stay out of the way. I want to do something,” Sam explained.

Dean frowned. “You do more than stay out of the way.”

Sam waved him off. “It doesn’t matter, I really want to hunt.”

“You only have two days, are you sure?” Dean grilled him.

Sam rolled his eyes and reveled in the way the world spun slightly. “I’m sure I’m sure.”

During the drive, he couldn’t stop staring at the sky, at the road, at the other cars, at everything.

The hunt was straightforward. At least, it was supposed to be. But Sam acted like a freaking amateur when he saw the chupacabra. The sight of it had him frozen in fear, nearly getting Dean killed.

“Dean, I’m sorry, this was a stupid idea, I’m sorry,” he babbled as he helped Dean to his feet.

“Dude, you’re fine. Hey, you need to see some good movies, okay?” Dean patted him clumsily on the shoulder.

Sam bit his lip, but complied. He had messed up enough for today, it was time to let Dean take the lead.

* * *

The clock was winding down on Sam’s little gift, and Dean could see Sam’s anxiety piling up. Sam was staring at a Gideon bible on his nightstand, and suddenly laughed.

“What?”

“It’s kind of difficult to read,” he admitted.

Dean sighed. “Sam, you okay?”

“Just fine.” Sam’s eyes roamed over him like it was the last time he was going to see him—because hey, it was.

“Are you going to be okay?” he clarified.

Sam shrugged.

“Anything you want to do?” Dean offered.

Sam shook his head.

“Seriously, Sam . . .”

“Just leave me alone!” he snapped. He heaved a deep sigh, rubbing his mouth and Dean waited. “This was a bad idea.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Being able to see. It just makes this more difficult.”

“It’s not like you had a choice, man.”

“I know, it’s just . . .” Sam’s eyes roamed the room. “Losing this again and knowing that I will ahead of time . . .”

“I’m sorry,” Dean offered meaninglessly. Sam’s liquid eyes met his sadly.

“How can I live without it again?”

Dean didn’t have an answer to that.

At some point, while Dean was surreptitiously watching Sam, his brother blinked, and then his eyes were white again. Even then, Sam didn’t break down, just reached up, hands trembling, to touch his eyelids. Swallowed, once, twice.

“Where’s the next hunt?” he murmured.

Dean kept his eyes on Sam. “Couple states over.”

“We should get going, soon.” Sam stood and then wobbled uncertainly. “Where’s . . . where’s the door?”

Dean silently grieved for Sam’s loss, but controlled himself. “Ten o’clock, four paces.”

“I’m just going to go for a walk.” Sam fumbled for his cane and Dean repressed the urge to go after him.

“Sam, be safe.”

“Yeah.”

Dean whispered a quiet “sorry” after him. It was all he could do.


End file.
